


A Father's Day Gift

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute Ending, Dean is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Father's Day, Father's Day Party, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Husbands, M/M, Teacher Castiel, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: They climb the small staircase to the rustic door before Cas presses the doorbell. As the last chime rings out, Dean turns to Cas. “Hmm… maybe…”Dean tests the handle on the door. It opens with ease.Cas has to admit, he’s even more wary walking into a brightly lit house with no people. He peers around the corner to the arcadia door while Dean closes the front. Confirming Cas’s suspicion behind the double doors is the grill sizzling, with no one manning it—giving further credit to Cas’s Twilight Zone theory.





	A Father's Day Gift

At first, Cas ignores it in favor of a few more minutes of sleep.

It’s rare he gets to sleep in nowadays, between the mounds of papers he has to grade day in and out and the endless days he’s volunteered that could’ve been spent catching up on _Game of Thrones_ to supervise kids who haven’t outgrown their oral fixation. So when he has a quiet moment to himself, even if it’s just being burrowed like a sleep-deprived prairie dog in the dreamy throes of his memory foam, he’s going to bask in it.

His husband has a different opinion. Cas blindly paws his face, but that doesn’t deter Dean from the seeds he’s planting along the vertical equator of Cas’s tan face. “ _Dean,_ ” he moans, causing the man to giggle as he’s placing a kiss between the underside of his right nostril and Cas to wriggle his nose vigorously. “Oh no… you’ve done it now,” Cas warns, scrambling to sit up.

“What—?”

Cas interrupts him with a throat-clenching sneeze.

Dean’s eyes aren’t so easy to see through his snot-covered lenses when Cas blearily opens his own. He looks positively offended, like someone took away his hard-earned teddy bear at the local carnival and replaced it with an off-brand Ty baby, and then it’s Cas’s turn to laugh.

“I probably deserved that,” he admits finally, taking them off and setting them on his end of the bed, on top of _Boyhood,_ a book (and a movie) Cas hasn’t seen in ages. He actually forgot he owned a copy.

“How long have you been up?” Cas asks, curiosity blowing some of the sand from his dry, desert eyes.

Dean follows Cas’s gaze and scratches his neck—unlike the first time they met. Dean’s definitely humbled since knowing Cas.

Cas still pictures it perfectly: He was on pick-up duty, making sure every last child was getting home safely and timely. Sam Winchester, father to Magda Winchester, one of Cas’s students in the gifted program, phoned in the front office to let them know he was sending his brother to pick her up due to an unexpected work call. About twenty minutes after that voicemail, and ten minutes past the school’s closing, Dean Winchester swung into the parking lot with his ’67 Chevy revving like the Tasmanian devil’s tornado, and teeth baring all the same when he rolled down his passenger’s side window.

“ _You Cas?” he asks, smile only growing, and Cas suddenly feels like his turtleneck isn’t covering enough._

_Only Sam’s come to acknowledge him by his nickname, having befriended each other through the monthly PTA meetings, because Sam is respectful, kind, **mild-tempered.** This guy’s wearing a black leather jacket to match his seats and has his hair sticking straight up to a point, like he just came from electroshock therapy. His car, from the draft he gets from Magda opening the door, even smells like fried chicken. “Yes… I’m Mr. Novak. Dean, is it?”_

_Dean licks his lips and he’s glad Magda pops in her headphones so she doesn’t hear the next thing out of them: “I don’t do formalities, but I may just let you call me Mr. Winchester.”_

_Little did Cas know after they drove off that he_ would _be on his knees, worshipping him Mr. Grey style._

“Not very long,” Dean replies, stirring him from his thoughts of yesterday. “I guess I’m just excited for the party tonight. It’ll be good to get out and see everyone again, instead of being holed up in the garage all day.”

"It’s good to see you excited, but why were we invited again?” Cas asks, hating how petulant he sounds. "We're not dads. I mean, we _want_ to be, but..."

Cas’s gaze is forced back up when Dean catches his stubbled chin. He’s smiling just enough to reveal the creases around his pear green eyes. They never fail to remind Cas of child-drawn sun rays, which makes him even sadder. "Hey, they’re our friends, and they love us regardless,” he says. “Besides, you know Sam's lost without you. Benny raves about boating, Garth tries to sell the 'werewolf diet' by pandering to us men with the infamous 'dad bod', and the Cuevas's... well, they're okay, even if they find every opportunity to make out like teenagers. Plus, who’s gonna teach Magda how to outsmart her teachers?”

Cas rolls his eyes, but can’t help the sheepish grin that sneaks onto his face. “Fine, but _only_ for her,” he conditions. "By the way, there is no 'us' in dad bod."

Dean retracts his fingers like a fly’s just landed on his appetizer. "I'll have you know I love my love handles,” he defends, narrowing his head with wide, amused eyes. “And I have proof you do. Maybe that'll be a good video to share with the guys. It's not father-related, but you were technically screaming—"

"Okay, alright, you've made your point." It’s Cas’s turn to read his husband, who’s doing the same to him—if Cas were a five-star steakhouse menu: "You're thinking about out-finessing the Cuevas's, aren't you?"

"Cas,” Dean says, hand on his chest, "baby, I'm offended. You know I always wanna make out with you."

"Mmm, right. You know, we can get a head start in the car before we leave..."

Dean smiles lazily and wraps his arms around Cas. "Why… _mmm_ … wait?” he says, punctuating those words with two new, scorching kisses to Cas’s volcanic neck, causing him to laugh despite the lava burning his throat.

“Why’re you so touchy-feeley today?”

“You know I can’t resist you in that.”

“Dean, I’m only wearing a pair of your boxer briefs.”

“Exactly,” he growls, leaving no choice for Cas to yank Dean’s face up and into his.

Cas may hate waking up on the weekends, but he hates it a little less when Dean’s at the root of it.

*~*

“It’s awfully quiet for a dozen and a half men boasting about grilling,” Cas remarks as they approach Sam’s two-story house. It’s like they’ve unwittingly passing through a portal into _The Twilight Zone._ The lights in the living room are radiating through the sliding glass window, but no one’s occupying the space. The smell of honey baste barbeque isn’t enough to distract him from the strange activity—or lack thereof, rather.

“Sammy’s probably showing off his grilling skills,” Dean scoffs, even though there are clearly no voices coming from out back. “That he learned from _me,_ by the way. You ready?”

Cas shoots his head down to where Dean grips a little tighter on his hand. He squints, but nods anyway. “Yeah… sure.”

They climb the small staircase to the rustic door before Cas presses the doorbell. As the last chime rings out, Dean turns to Cas. “Hmm… maybe…”

Dean tests the handle on the door. It opens with ease.

Cas has to admit, he’s even more wary walking into a brightly lit house with no people. He peers around the corner to the arcadia door while Dean closes the front. Confirming Cas’s suspicion behind the double doors is the grill sizzling, with no one manning it—giving further credit to Cas’s _Twilight Zone_ theory.

**“SURPRISE!”**

If not for the kitchen island behind him, he would’ve stumbled back to his death. Snapping his head, he sees everyone emerging from the invisible shadows one-by-one with marinating smiles—the kind that have been worn for a while and knows something you don’t. Sam, Magda, Benny, Garth, the Cuevas’s, Lee, Bobby, Victor, Gordon, and a lot of other people he’s met but whose names are slipping him in favor of his heart threatening his brain hostage.

Even Dean is in on it, wearing the same kind of smile, face closely resembling his rolled-up red flannel.

“What’s… I’m… _why—?”_

“Seriously, Sam,” Dean cuts in, gesturing to the arcadia door, “you couldn’t hold off on the barbeque before we got here?”

“Right, I’m gonna let everyone starve on _your_ account. We were getting hungry!”

“We’re _ten minutes early.”_

“What’s going on??” Cas interjects. Everyone’s eyes migrate to Dean, as if he’s the new King of Gondor.

Dean takes his rightful steps forward until he’s facing Cas. His teary eyes convert his irises into emeralds, but he’s not upset. Cas can tell by the sun rays around them. His heart slows at the familiarity of it, but he shakes his head lightly in question nonetheless. He wants to reach out for Dean, but Dean’s already doing the same, taking his hands in his.

“I got a call from the adoption agency on Wednesday,” he says, grinning wide. "His name is Jack. We're gonna meet him tomorrow."


End file.
